Better Off Dead than in Love
by BetweenLines55
Summary: Modern-day Muggle AU: James and Sirius propose a bet, first person to ask out their respected love interests wins, loser has to do something dastardly at the Winter Dance. Never trust a teenage boy when it comes to matters of the heart. Jily and Wolfstar and T for innuendos and swearing. Co-written with PrincessOfTheMoon87
1. 1 Sirius

**Hello all, PrincessOfTheMoon87 and I come bearing a Marauders Muggle Present day AU. She will be writing in James' POV and I will be writing in Sirius'. If you have a review for a specific author, please leave it on their chapter and address it to them as such. Thanks! Enjoy! Nothing belongs to us!**

* * *

Sirius

"You'd think," James says from behind me, maneuvering his way through the throng (a great word, that) behind me and trying to balance his tray, "with the amount of money our parents pay for this damn school—oops, sorry about that," I didn't even have to look around to know that James had almost run into one of the Year Nines, considering how each batch seemed to get shorter every year, "the food would be half-way decent."

"It is." I tell him, a few paces ahead with a tray of my own balanced in one hand, James' nicked car keys in the other, "You're just spoilt on Dorea's cooking."

"That's weird." James says, finally catching up to me and matching my stride. He's running his gloved free hand through his hair and has a contemplative look on his face. His nose and cheeks are red and I know both of us will be happier when we reach his car, with heated seats. "What," I ask, not really paying attention. I've known James for so long that it's easy to pick up on patterns—he's going to make some comment about me calling his mum by her first name.

"You call my mum 'Dorea'. Why do you do that again?"

Called it. "What else would I call her?" He's looking at me and his glasses are fogged, eyes blinking owlishly at me as if that will help him. Serves him right for not getting contacts. "Um, maybe, you know, _Mrs. Potter_."

"Tch," I say, climbing up the steps to the student parking lot. My hands have gone numb and my nose is on the way there. Me and my bloody charity, giving my gloves (the nice leather ones) to Remus, "Rem calls his parents by their first names."

"Yes," James agrees, but I know there's going to be a but, "but Remus' parents are baby-boomer flower-children. Their house house smells like the fun kind of brownies you like to serve at your parties and incense."

"Is that a bad thing?" I ask, unlocking the car and throwing the keys to James who manages to catch them, then sliding into the shot gun seat. "Mary's brownies are excellent, where do you think I get them from?"

"Jesus," James mutters and turns over the engine of the Jaguar XK8, which is nice even for a prep school kid. (Then again, James could probably buy this prep school and still have money left over for tuition...then again, I could too.) Wonderful, glorious, heaven-sent heat blasts through the vents while I reach to the console and turn the seat warmer on. James tears his gloves off and grabs the blanket from the back seat that smells permanently of smoke, and settles it over us.

"It's even more fucking freezing than usual," James says, a sudden, conniving look overcoming his face. Before I can react, James has shouted, "HERE, FEEL," and presses his icicle fingers to my face.

"Oi!" I say, battling his hands away, "What are you, twelve?" I jab him in the ribs and he yelps, narrowly avoiding his hot coffee sitting in the cup holder in front of us. A tap on the window makes the both of us freeze.

Oh, it's only our friendly, neighborhood Remus who has seemed to just finish a fag, stomping it out on the slushy parking lot. I unlock the car and he slides in next to me. It's a tight fit, the two of us, him even taller than I am, but he's all bones and feels even colder than James' hands. "Horrible out there," he says casually. He's dressed about as good as anyone can for this weather; a deep green parka makes his otherwise lean frame bulky, the boots on his feet are surely causing watermarks on the floor that James will yell at Remus for later. His bony hands are wrapped in my gloves and I've never wanted to be a piece of leather so much in my life as he takes them off with his teeth.

James sends me a pointed look. I pointedly ignore James.

Remus unzips his coat a bit and I pull the blanket over him. "No Pete today?" James asks. Remus shakes his head, static frizzed hair that hasn't kept to its place in his pony tail waving about his face, "Had to make up a test for Flitwick."

"Poor bloke." I say. James has settled in and reaches to turn the radio on, mindlessly flipping to a station on his presets. I know Remus and I are fucked even before the chorus starts playing.

"**I'm gonna pop some tags**

**Only got twenty dollars in my pocket—**"

"God, James, please, turn it off, what have we done to spite you?"

"James, we'll do whatever you want, but turn it off!"

Unfortunately, Rem and I aren't so lucky as James starts to sing along. Dorea and Charlus wasted their money on music lessons for James as a child because damn, is he ever off-key. If one can even be off-key when rapping, that is.

"_I-I'm a hunting, looking for a come-up._

_This is fucking awesome._"

Remus, obviously having enough, leans across my lap and I get a very nice view of his back as he tries to change the station, only to end up being conquered by James. I jab Jamie in the ribs again and turn off the music. "And that's final," I say.

James pouts, I ignore him.

Our food has gotten cold by the time we actual unwrap it from the greasy paper it was put in. I don't mind though, the taste doesn't really change much, even though James is pouting the whole time. "It's _pizza_, James," Remus says, "you like pizza."

James retorts but I don't hear it. Rem's shifted a bit, closer to me and our thighs are now touching. Then I realize, he's looking for a bit more heat. "You're freezing," I say quietly to him. Remus gives a half shrug, "I'll be fine." Shaking my head, I wiggle out of my coat as best I can and drape it over his shoulders. "You'll get sick," I say, "and we both know what happens when you get sick." He nods in defeat and settles back into my coat.

James is looking at me, at us, so I ignore it and change the subject. "We still setting off those fireworks in the girls' locker rooms on Friday?"

"Got the fireworks today," James says, and I can finally relax now that he's got his mind off the _very gay happenings_ in the next seat over.

.

.

.

Lunch hour comes to an end with James suggesting we meet behind the pool house on Friday during lunch. Remus returns my coat, though I make him keep the gloves, "We're meeting up at your place after school to do that history project, aren't we? I'll get them then." He looks like he wants to protest but decides against it. "All right, I'll be by your bike after the bell, and don't bloody be late. It's too fucking cold out." He leaves, flipping up the hood of his parka and lighting another fag.

I go to follow him into the school where the faulty heating system from fifty years ago is better than no heating system at all when James catches my arm, "So it's him then, yeah?"

I pull out of his grip. "Maybe."

"Well." He says.

"Well." I agree.

"Do you realize that if you break up, the group is done for?" Bloody Potter, putting the group before me, but then again, that's what matters the most, that's what's solid.

"Do you realize that Remus Lupin is almost surely straight?" I counter.

He sighed through his nose and ruffles his hair again, "My best friend has a crush on another one of my friends. Sounds like one of those bad romcoms my mum likes."

"Forget it, James."

"I can't just forget this—look, after your study...whatever it is...with Remus, drop by."

"How do I explain this to Dorea?"

"Hell if I know, your problem, mate! See ya after Chem!" He jogs ahead of me, leaving me very stuck next to his XK8.

**James' POV next by the lovely PrincessOfTheMoon87, reviews are love!**


	2. 1 James

**The first bit of James' POV, by the lovely PrincessOfTheMoon87. **

* * *

James

Chemistry. My favorite subject. My books hit the lab table with a thud and there's a metallic scrape as I pull the stool back. The other stool is empty, Lily not yet here.

Lily. Lily Evans, my lab partner and soon-to-be-girlfriend. Well, hopefully. I think I might die if she doesn't show up, so I watch person after person file through the door until she does, red hair bouncing around her shoulders, talking to…oh. Of course it's him. I suppress the urge to throw up as he escorts her to her seat. How polite.

Severus Snape. Or as I prefer, Snivellus. It fits him much better, I think. He grins brightly as she thanks him, then trots off like the obedient dog he is. His hair's greasy, his nose looks like a hook, and his shirt sleeves are too long. He pushes them up as he walks to his seat, but he just has to do it again by the time he's gotten there.

"Good morning, Lily." She throws her hair back into a ponytail as she sits, and I run a hand through my own subconsciously. Sirius always complains about how messy it is, like he's one to talk. Stylishly messy, I tell him. The girls love it. Not this girl.

"It's nearly 1:30, James," she answers, without even a glimpse up. I stay silent until she looks up at me with those brilliant green eyes. "Sorry. I had a rather bad morning."

Before I can ask her why, the bell sounds and Slughorn is calling for us to take our homework out. I didn't do it of course, though I doubt old Slug will notice the handwriting's not mine, or Rem's name hastily scratched out at the top. I haven't done a single chemistry homework yet, though I have full marks on them. He won't notice.

Lily's his prize student, so though he says nothing as he checks mine off, he praises her for at least a full minute. She's excellent at chemistry, which, despite not being the main reason, is something that makes me grateful to be her lab partner.

My thoughts wander off as Slughorn begins talking about whatever atrociously boring thing we'll be doing today. I wonder if after school Sirius and Remus will really be studying, but the alternative is too awful to think about, so I tune back in to class.

I have no idea what's going on but Lily does, already returning with two vials, one holding a clear liquid, the other black. "You smell like smoke," she observes. I sniff my jacket. I do smell like smoke. Bloody Rem and his 57 fags a day.

"It was Remus," I explain, watching warily as she pours the clear liquid into a beaker.

She doesn't even acknowledge that I've spoken. "Here," she hands me a cork. "Cork it after I put this in." She shakes the black stuff slightly, then pours it in. There's a pop as I cork it, though not as a result of anything I've done. The beaker fills with a purple gas and Slughorn's raving.

"Excellent! Wonderful job, Ms. Evans!" I nearly remind him that I'm here too, but I honestly wish I wasn't. At least a dozen other groups have done it correctly as well, and it's not like it was particularly difficult, but Lily's blushing. Snivellus is watching her with some odd prideful look, I'd like to slap it off him.

When the bell rings Lily springs out of her seat to catch up with Snape. My backpack handles going half zipped in my effort to catch up with her, and as I round the corner behind them, I run into Sirius so hard I nearly fall over.

"Hey James, wh—where are you going?" He gives me a look like I've just told him I'm in love with an alpaca as I walk right past him.

"Be right back," I pant, and then I elbow my way in between Lily and Snape, who are walking much too close to each other for my liking. "Hullo Lily."

"Oh, hi James." She glances over my shoulder at Snape, who I'm sure is about ready to kill me. I couldn't care less; in fact, I'd like to see him try. "Do you need something?"

I falter a little, finally deciding on homework. I hadn't thought this far ahead, unsurprisingly."What was the chem homework, again?" It doesn't matter, I'm not going to do it. I supposed one day I'll have to do it, but today is not that day.

I watch her lips as she talks, not hearing what she's saying. "James?" I jerk back to reality. When she tells me it's an essay of some sort, I groan inwardly, but beam and thank her anyway, running back to Sirius. He's barely hiding a grin.

"So yours is Lily then?" His face is red, and I suppose he's just come from outside. There's snow in his hair slowly melting, and his gray eyes dance as he looks down at me.

Playing dumb's your best bet, Potter. "My what?" Sirius doesn't press it, still smiling evilly. We start walking then, feet scuffing along the hideous tile floor as we make our way reluctantly to English.

We sit at different tables in English, so when I come up with a genius idea (not uncommon), I have to scribble it onto a piece of paper. I wait till McGonagall's back is turned to chuck the folded up note, and the paper whistles through the air, landing right on Sirius' desk.

McGonagall turns from the board and I'm sure she's seen somehow, but she just yells at some annoying—but hot—girls in the corner of the room for talking. Sirius starts to write his reply and I wrinkle my nose as McGonagall walks over to the other board, passing me with her marker held high. As soon as she passes Sirius, with an imperceptible flick of his wrist the note is returned to me.

In answer to my proposed bet, the winner of which is the first to ask out their love interest, he has written **Are you kidding me? Fuck that, no way.**

**Why not? Don't be a bitch. **I throw it back and McGonagall's definitely seen this time. "Mr. Potter, how much do you know about Sophocles?"

"Not as much as I'd like to, Professor." She glares at me with such anger that it takes everything I have to maintain my saintly smile.

"Then pay attention." Her tone barely changes, and her volume doesn't at all, but I feel like I've just been screamed at. It's a good thing my mother never learned how to do that.

When Sirius throws it back, it skips along the floor instead of the high-risk, airborne maneuver.

**I thought you said me and Rem being together would mess up the group.**

**I said you two breaking up would ruin the group. Honestly, I think, keep it together Sirius. We're doing it. Loser has to stand on a table and sing Thrift Shop—the entire thing, at the Winter Dance.** I manage to write the whole thing while smiling up at McGonagall. I drop it along with my pencil and boot it over to Sirius.

**What's winner get?**

**The satisfaction of watching the other ruin his life.** I'm in the process of reading his reply to this when McGonagall slams her hand down on my desk.

"James Potter give me that note right now. I'm dying to know what is so much more interesting than Sophocles and Greek tragedies." Her jaw is set, her eyes cold and emotionless.

"Honestly I can name a million things more interesting than Sophocles." I smirk up at her expression, which is getting worse and worse by the minute. Sirius has gone very pale at the thought of her reading the note, and really, our whole English class does not need to know that he's in love with Remus. So I rip the note in half.

"Potter!" McGonagall splutters while Sirius gapes.

"It wasn't worth reading," I assure her.

"Detention, Mr. Potter!" McGonagall's face is red, she's so furious, and as she marches away Sirius shoots me a thankful look. It was no problem, really, I'd have gotten detention somehow anyway. I hold up the shreds of the note, pointing to it. We both nod and the bet is on.

I must win Lily Evans' heart.

**Remember, reviews are love! The plot thickens! Sirius' next part up soon!**


	3. 2 Sirius

**The next part of Sirius' POV. I told you it'd be quick. Thanks for all the lovely follows, reviews And favorites. We really appreciate it!**

* * *

Sirius

If possible, it had gotten colder between lunch and now. My breath steams before me and my boots crunch along on the icy road up to the student parking lot. I just want to get to Remus' house, the trip there on my bike isn't going to be at all fun in this weather.

When I say bike, I don't mean a dinky little racing thing you buy for a hundred and fifty pounds or so. I'm talking a big Harley Davidson motorbike—black leather and a red racing stripe on the engine. Classic. I got it second hand two summers ago when a elderly old woman a mile down from my house wanted someone to clean out her garage. Good thing too, I got it for free and it's American. British bikes are shit.

Then again, I have to give Remus free rides everywhere he wants because he technically was the one to get the thing running. Ah well, you win some, you lose some.

Remus is waiting, sitting sideways on the bike seat, hands stuffed under his armpits and bouncing his legs a bit to keep warm. His ponytail is even more disheveled than usual and it's tucked into his scarf to stay out if the wind.

"Took you long enough," he says when he greets me, and thrusts the gloves at me. "Your fingers are going to fall off otherwise."

I take my gloves and put them on. Jesus, why did I ever let Remus borrow them? Oh, right, I love the git, that's why. "Are you sure? You'll be fine?" Remus nods and gets out of my way so I can swing a leg over the bike and settle on top. I hand him the extra helmet and feel the bike shift a bit as he gets on behind me. "I'll be fine—I'll just stick my hands up your coat or something."

Oh. Well. That would work.

Remus wraps around my waist, hands sneaking up my cost and resting on my stomach. Calm down, Sirius. Think about...your mother dancing naked. Right. Yes. Good.

"You going to start driving anytime soon?" He asks, I can feel the smirk in his voice. Blushing, and glad that he can't see my face, I start up the engine and roll out of the spot.

The trip from school to Remus' house is a short one, but he lives down a rather curved, tree-lined street that's a right pain in the arse to drive through in the winter. His house is on the end of a strip, good that way so various fumes don't annoy the neighbors. He and his parents are middle class and they live in a nice brick house. The drugs (as much as James and Pete like to joke) that Rem's parents are into aren't hard; they occasionally have weed around the house and that's about it. I don't think I've ever seen Remus high, at least not for other than medical reasons, he only smokes.

I pull into the sludgy driveway and kick the kickstand down. We sit there for a moment, the cold biting my face. "You going to get off anytime soon?" I say, giving Rem a taste of his own medicine. He chuckles, warm against my neck and I relish in it, before he's squeezing my sides (my yelp is very manly, thank you) and getting off the back, tossing his helmet to me. I follow as he trudges 'round the house on the path to the backdoor.

"Mary, John, we're home!" Remus yells into the kitchen, which has that stale, citrusy smell of weed. As I bend down to take off my shoes, his mother comes in from the living room, wearing one of her multicolored shawls and bringing back the socks-with-sandals look. She waddles over (she's short and curvy and the opposite of Remus) and kisses his cheek, the proceeding to kiss mine. "Hullo Sirius, how're you?"

"Good, good, thank you, Mary." I say. Rem, also having taken off his shoes, has started pilfering the kitchen, grabbing a bag of crisps and two bottles of seltzer. "We've got history to do, but I guess Sirius' staying to eat."

"Well, you're always welcome here, luv." Mary says, "I'll call you 'bout seven for supper."

I call a thank you over my shoulder as Rem drags me through the house, the old shag carpeting under foot. The wallpapering in the house is something in a horrible shade of olive from the seventies and it's a little rough around the edges but it feels like a real home. The less like Grimmlaude Place the better, I say.

Remus' room is really the finished attic, with a space heater, thank the Lord. The roof slopes a little and to get into the double bed in the corner, Remus and his six feet, two inches has to stoop a little. He's got a nice, thrift store oak desk set up in one of the corners, a Chewbaca figurine guarding his pencils, a 'BAZINGA' sticker proudly displayed on his Mac, his Christmas present from a few months ago. He's got his bass, a nice one James, me and Pete bought for him for his birthday last March, in its stand sitting proudly next to his desk and instead of real curtains, strings of beads block the little triangular windows.

I sigh and crouch low enough to collapse face first into his bed, which smells smokey and a bit like a hardback book, and maybe some Irish Spring—Remus. He's taken his parka off and I can see now that's he's in his usual screen printed t-shirt and a deep blue cardigan. He stoops and little and nudges me in the side with his knee, "Scoot over."

I do so, allowing Rem and his Mac to also occupy the bed. "So...Peter the Great," he says.

"Wasn't all the Great?" I guess, "He's Russian, right?"

"Well, he _was_ Russian. He's long dead now."

"Obviously."

I close my eyes and let myself breathe in the scent of Remus and his presence a hands width away. Bloody James and his bloody bet, as if I, who can get a bird to sleep with me in twenty minutes, can't get a bloke like Remus to go on one date with me.

...I'm so screwed.

Rem has tapped away at something, pulling up a BBC documentary on our tsar. "Here," he maximizes the video and I sit up enough to watch if with him in the dimmed light of the room...and also have an excuse to put my head half-way on his chest. Remus doesn't say anything.

The documentary was boring to say the least, but Remus seemed intent on watching it. Anyways, it allowed me to indirectly cuddle with him, which was probably more than James was doing at this point with Evans. "So...a paper then." Rem says when the documentary ends and BBC logo flashes across the screen.

"Nah, papers are boring...let's make a model."

"Of what?"

"St. Petersburg. Or whatever he built."

"...not actually a bad idea, Sirius."

"See, I can be scholarly."

We did end up doing a bit more research, or well, Rem did and I made my contribution by sitting there and looked pretty. Then again, he looked nice too, finally tying up his hair again. When I won the bet, and I would, without a doubt, I'd run my fingers through Rem's hair as much as I'd like.

.

.

.

"We're a little bit gay, aren't we?" I ask. It's almost time for dinner and Remus has a majority of he notes we need laid out in front of us. We've finished our seltzer and our crisps, my stomach is starting to protest about the lack of food. My head is on his stomach and he's finally collapsed back onto the pillows. He laughs, "A little. But I don't think you're really friends with someone until you are."

"Too true, Rem, too true." God, isn't he brilliant.

It's seven or so and Rem's mum calls us down for supper. It's all-natural when it comes to food at the Lupins', with Rem getting ill all the time. Corn-fed chicken and natural green beans and bio-engineered rice. Mary is an excellent cook.

"So how's the project coming, boys?" John Lupin asks from next to Remus. There's no head of their round dining table. That would be "creating a socially unequal and unhealthy familial unit" according to John and Mary; brilliant, the two of them.

"Fine," Remus says, "we're doing a model of St. Petersburg. Speaking of which, Sirius, d'you want to come over Friday, work on it then?"

"Sure, that'll work."

"Well," Mary says, already scooping another serving of beans onto my plate, "if you're coming over Friday, why not just stay the night?"

I exchange a look with Remus. He shrugs, I nod, "All right."

John, who works at a bookstore and makes surprising good money selling textbooks to uni students, talks about the latest shipment of Renaissance poetry they received the other day and I zone out a bit. I'll have to make a detour to James' house...sell a story to Dorea...

.

.

.

I offer to help clean up, but Mary waves me away. Rem sees me out. I'm standing on the back steps, he's just inside, and I can tell he's already freezing. "I'm fine," I say, "you'll catch something."

"No I won't, I'm completely—" he shutters off into a small coughing fit, and he's looking a bit peaky, like he has since the documentary finished up, really. He scowls, "Fine, I might go and lay down. Text me later...and see you tomorrow."

I wave, hear him shut the door, and walk back around the house to my bike. Getting on and turning over the engine I pull out into the road, praying that Remus will be fine after a bit of sleep.

**Jame's POV will be up next. Reviews are love!**


	4. 2 James

**PrincessOfTheMoon87's second James installment. Hope ya'll enjoy the lovely way she writes James Potter.**

* * *

James

I both want Sirius to get here, and am dreading the moment he arrives. I had told him he'd have to come up with a story for Mum after all, and knowing Sirius, it will almost definitely get me in trouble to deflect the attention off of him.

When my phone vibrates, I lunge for it so violently that the bed creaks in protest and threatens to tip me off. Once retrieved form the edge of the desk, the phone finds itself dropped. It's just Sirius, informing me he's on his way here. Great.

I pray for the hundredth time that night, that all Sirius and Remus did was study. They can't have done anything else, because for one thing, I'll be truly and utterly disgusted. For another, it may or may not lead to me humiliating myself in front of loads of people.

Stupid me. Why on earth had I suggested such a thing? Regardless of the good of the group, and though I'd never tell Sirius this, I suspected he had a better chance than I did. Not that Remus was in love with the man, of course, just that Lily sometimes seemed like she couldn't be bothered with me.

Not that that mattered. I'd make her be bothered with me. Maybe it'd annoy her at first, but she'd come around. They all did. All two, but that's beside the point.

I sigh, looking around the large empty space. I'm the only child of rather wealthy parents, and as such, am spoiled rotten. My room is the size of an ordinary master bedroom, making my parents' look like some sort of ballroom. My double bed is shoved up against the wall, and I'm staring directly at an old armoire with windows in the doors over the desk. Seriously now? Why would clothes need windows?

The armoire creeps me out, as I'm always reminded of Beauty and the Beast, and just to ensure that it never starts yapping at me, I don't open it. Never have, never will; it was here when we got here, and I imagine it'll be here when I leave. My clothes are instead strewn about the room in piles that are very organized, thank you.

I hear Sirius' bike on the road much sooner than I'd like. I groan a little from my spot on the bed, rolling over to peer out the window. I'd already know it was him, of course, but I just had to make sure. I could distinguish the engine of Sirius' bike anywhere. Plus, no one in this neighborhood owns a Harley Davidson.

I get up and stretch, trying to figure out if I could possibly sneak Sirius in without him even seeing my mother. Whatever he's going to say to her, and I know he will say something, is going to be bad and I don't want to be there when it happens. However, maybe I can prevent it from happening at all.

Stupid Sirius. Of course he doesn't wait for me to smuggle him in. He opens the front door like he owns the place, striding right in. His face is red again, hair wind blown, and I wonder why he likes that bike so much. Seems to me like it'd get awfully cold, especially in the dead of winter.

"Hullo Dorea," he calls to my mother, who is hurrying down the hall in investigation of her front door suddenly being opened. I watch my short mother, her black her pulled back into a tight bun, and her thin face hardens when she sees who it is.

"Sirius Black what on earth are you doing here?" I try to decide whether or not to stay on the stairs or not, whether I should go help Sirius or run. My mother's back is to me, I could manage an escape. Except, of course I couldn't. His eyes light up as they fall on me, though not exactly with joy. It's more of a mischievous glint that rather frightens me.

"James!" Curse you, Sirius Orion Black. If my mother doesn't, I'll kill him myself. "Why haven't you told your mother you were expecting company?"

My mother whirls around and I grimace. Before she can yell at me for pulling a face, I smile down at them sweetly, in such a way that Sirius knows his murder is to be expected.

"But I didn't know you were coming," I insist. "I had no clue. This is a surprise visit, Mum, I assure you. I would love to know the reason for it myself."

He sniffs suspiciously and my mother's eyes narrow. Then he smacks her lightly on the arm. "I almost crashed my bike today, Dorea." My mother stiffens. Him riding that thing makes her nervous enough as it is. She doesn't need to know this. Why is he telling her this? "It was texting your son, in fact." That's why he's telling her. He's trying to work an angle, it appears.

"James!" she shouts indignantly.

Sirius continues as though she hasn't said a thing. His voice adopts a shaky, slightly frightened quality. "I was near here when it happened, and I just thought I should take a break for a few moments. I nearly died."

I nearly fall down the stairs in an effort to restrain my laughter. If there's one thing Sirius is good at, it's riding that stupid motorbike. There is absolutely no way he almost crashed, nearly died, or anything happened at all. I know from personal experience how long it takes to get here from Rem's place, and he made excellent time. No, Sirius Black is most certainly lying to my mother.

Mum falls for it. She loves Sirius, so even if she doesn't completely think it's true, she'll go along with it anyway. Pathetic. As I shake my head sadly, she does the same. Her eyes are full of worry, and I would throttle Sirius except that I'm amazed by how well this is working.

"Sirius, you poor thing," she coos. I roll my eyes. "I think it's best you stay here for a few moments, too. Do you need anything? Some water, a biscuit?" Sirius is living it up. He refuses her offers of food politely, grinning at me the whole time. Finally she retreats to the living room and he climbs the stairs. He's actually pulled it off.

"You're awful," I exclaim once the door's been safely shut and Sirius is lounging across the desk. He's got his gloves back, I notice. Though it's far from cold in here, he isn't going to take them off. I know exactly why. "You shouldn't toy with my poor mother's emotions like that."

"Ah fuck you, James, that was great." He tosses his hair back impatiently, running a gloved hand through it. "Gold, really. Did you see her face? 'You poor thing.'" He cackles.

I throw a pillow at his head. I don't miss. Neither does he when he flings himself at me, and I'm caught by surprise. I'd expected the pillow thrown back, at most. Unprepared, I'm off balance and we both hit the floor. When I punch him in the shoulder teasingly he falls over, clutching it in mock pain.

"What would your mum say, you beast?"

"What would Rem say?"

Sirius stops clutching his shoulder and jerks up, and suddenly my mind wanders back to the question of whether or not they actually studied. He's worried though, that's all. I can tell. His eyebrows furrow, his eyes fall, he toys with a loose piece of carpet.

I groan. "What did I say?"

But Sirius shakes his head. I've done nothing wrong, for once. This is new. Perhaps cause for celebration. "I think he's getting sick again." When I say nothing, waiting for further elaboration, he gives me, "He was coughing."

That's it? James Potter is not impressed, and admittedly it doesn't take much to impress James Potter. "Have you ever considered it could, conceivably, be just a cough?"

"You know what a cough turns into for Rem," he snaps. The way he looks at me a second later, I know he didn't mean to say it that harshly. But it doesn't matter, I wouldn't have been offended anyway. It'd take more than that for Sirius to offend me. He turns my own mum against me on the regular and I do nothing.

"I do know," I concede. None of us likes it when Remus gets sick, which happens all too frequently. But Sirius has always taken it the hardest of all of us, and now I know why. I don't say anything further because I don't know what would make him feel better. Truthfully, I believed nothing would, other than Rem not being sick.

"So how did that study date go?" I reconsider my wording, hastily adding, "That was not a date. It does not count."

He waves his hand through the air, indicating that he knows as much. "We're building a model on Friday. And I'm sleeping over." He adds that last part casually, and I almost don't notice. Almost being the key word there.

I raise an eyebrow at this. "You move fast, Black, I must admit."

He nodded, grinning once more, and I was glad I'd been able to deflect the conversation from Rem's illness. "I'm rather surprised. I expected at least a small amount of competition."

"Don't you worry about competition, I've got a plan all worked out. You just need to focus on yourself." And I did have a plan. I had it on very good authority that next chem. class we'd be getting a change of lab partners. Only, I didn't expect mine to change all that much.

Sirius looks offended. "A plan? Without me? Spill it, Potter," he commands, but I refuse. "You're going to need help with this plan." At my dubious look he just scoffs. "If you ask anyone they'll tell you James Potter cannot execute a plan without help."

"You can't help me. That'd be sleeping with the enemy!" At his disgusted face, I frown too. "Figuratively, of course. Anyway, I'll have help. I just don't know from who quite yet." I have either Peter or Remus, and while Rem would probably be better, I don't know how to get him to help without explaining the bet to him, which I can't do for obvious reasons. Plus, while John and Mary may have been rather lax in terms of punishment, I'm not sure Remus would be willing to get detention all to help me with a girl.

Peter I knew would. He'd do anything I ask, with blind acceptance. Rather sad, if you think about it, but quite useful at times. While I ponder this, Sirius' eyes stray to the clock. "I should go. You know how mother worries." He says this last bit with so much sarcasm it is nearly tangible, but he stands nevertheless.

When we reach the bottom of the stairs, he calls goodbye to my mother, and then pauses with his hand on the doorknob. Mum had wandered down the hall again, and he hugs her goodbye. By way of greeting, he says, "Dorea, do you know James got a detention today?" And then he steps into the icy wind and my mother nearly rips my head off. Never mind that the detention was for Sirius.

**Reviews are love!**


	5. 3 Sirius

**The third installment of Sirius' plight, The plot thickens and Regulus is introduced.**

* * *

Sirius

The drive back from James' is most uneventful—I've driven it so much in my life that I could practically do it blind. I try to keep the engine down to a soft hum; my parents don't like the bike much as it is and when the engine roars at a later hour of the day they absolutely despise it. I roll it in front of the garage and kick the kickstand down. Taking off my helmet, I grab the tarp from nearby, bending down to cover the bike. Cold doesn't do much for the engine.

I'm fumbling with my keys while I take the steps through the servants' entrance. Yes a _servants' entrance_ for actual servants which we actually have. Mother and Father are much too above medial household chores such as _cooking_ and _cleaning_, God forbid. Before I can put my key into the lock, the door swings open violently, and the stern, drawn face of Regulus appears.

Regulus, or simply Reggie (occasionally Reg) depending on how I feel about him at any specific moment, is 12, but is often mistaken for 10 or so, considering how small he is—not just small as in petit but leaner in build than I am. He's definitely more quiet and reserved than me and if we didn't look anything alike, I wouldn't even say we were raised by the same two people. Mother, more often than not, approves of Regulus over me. To be honest, I don't blame her. He's got dark eyes, darker than mine, and they're burning right now. Quickly, without another word, he pulls me inside.

I can't ask what's going on before he's dragging me up the servants' stairs to the second floor and into my room. I don't like where this is going—I don't like having the brat in my room in the first place. It's painted a bright, sunny gold, my bed is covered in a fire-red duvet and there's plenty of scandalous posters of mostly-naked women on them that Mother keeps trying to have removed. Jokes on her though, I have a back-up supply behind my suits in my closet. They don't do much for me, to be honest, but it's worth seeing Mother's reaction when another one goes up.

"Sit." Reg finally says once the door is shut and locked behind us. I do so, and I don't know what possesses me to actually follow my twelve-year-old brother's order. I settle myself comfortably on my bed and he positions himself in front of me, then he begins. "Mother and Father had a bit of a row," he states evenly. He's much more like Father in personality and demeanor than I am: business like, the eye of the storm, practically monotonous in everything he does. "And?" I ask.

He looks over his shoulder, at the door and chews on his bottom lip, something he's always scolded for. _Not proper_. "It was about money. Great Uncle Alphard, you know, the nice one with the furry eyebrows?" He pauses while I nod, continuing, "Well he's just died, in bed with his mistress at his chateau in Lyon, and he left a large sum of money...to you."

I always liked Uncle Alphard, the only sane one in our family even though he had had tendencies to drink and sleep around. He always gave me and Reg lollies when he came to Black Family Meetings, or the annual Christmas party that Uncle Cygnus and Aunt Druella hosted. Technically, the money should have gone to my father at the very least, maybe even one of my cousins or Cygnus.

"Mother isn't pleased, I don't think she likes the idea of you with that much money. We're talking about practically two million pounds or so, not to mention American and European stocks. Father wants to give you a chance, he's been taking you to the bank anyways, for the past some years. They were going at it after dinner, ended just about half an hour before you showed up."

I sigh, sprawling back on my bed. Of course, Mother is always distrustful. And a horrible person in general but that's beside the point. "Well she can't take it from me. That's illegal, I'm 18, dammit; that money is mine."

"That's what Father argued. But he's going to Lyon to be there when the will is finalized and read, though I'm guessing they're not going to tell you until the terms are finalized." Reg says. What a brain for business this one has, always been like this, truthfully. It would be much better if he were the older brother and heir to the hierarchy I don't want.

I sit up to look my brother straight in the eye. He's looking at his shoes. Sighing, I run my face with my hands, "Bastards, the lot of them." He doesn't say anything and doesn't move, like he might usually after dropping news like this, doesn't make to the door to run back to his room. "What aren't you telling me, Reggie?" I ask. Quietly, he untucks his shit from his school slacks and lifts it up to show a purpling, almost yellow-tinted bruise covering from the top of his hip up his side. "I was stupid. I tried to get them to stop, to stop _yelling_. I got in the way, Mother pushed me and I landed onto the side of that mahogany end table in the study."

I can't take my eyes off that bruise, marring the otherwise perfect Black-porcelain complexion we all seem to have. "She did this to you," I say very quietly, "that _witch._"

"Sirius." He says as I rise, fully intent on making my way to wherever she is and giving her a what for. A small hand grasping mine stops me before I can throw open the door. His eyes are glassy, almost crying, but like me, he's too prideful. He always is. "It's not worth it. She can't stand you as it is."

He's right, as usual. Gently, I pull him into my arms, resting my shin on top of his feathery, black hair. "I love you so much Reggie."

He grabs my jumper tightly, "I love you, too. C-Can I stay here...with you, tonight?"

"'Course," I say, squeezing him tight. Reggie's the good one, he shouldn't be the one taking the brunt of Mother's...crazy, for lack of a better term. He nods, pulling away and scampering out the door, I suppose to get pajamas and brush his teeth.

I change into sweatpants and a Beatles t-shirt (old Christmas gift from Remus) and arrange the covers on the bed in a somewhat neater fashion than they were before. I don't like the maids coming into my room, for that reason my room is the most wonderfully messy and chaotic in the house. Sliding under the duvet, I make sure to leave room for Reg and fish my phone from the bedside table.

**To: Remmy Lupin :)**

**From: Sirius Black**

**Message: Home now finally. How u feelin? **

As soon as my phone makes the little whooshing sound to tell me that my text has been sent, Reg comes back in, wearing a pair of flannel pajama bottoms and an old Stones shirt of mine I didn't know he had. It falls down, off his shoulder, when he raises his arms. He slips into the opposite side of the bed, facing me.

"Thank you." He says in a small voice. I lean over and kiss his hair, "It's no problem. _You're _no problem." Reggie smiles a bit, careful not to lay down in a way that makes his side hurt.

My phone makes a soft pinging sound and I quickly turn it to silent. Reg sends me a questioning look but simply settles down in the covers, "Good night, Sirius."

"Sweet dreams, Reggie."

**To: Sirius Black**

**From: Remmy Lupin :)**

**Message: I've been better.**

**To: Remmy Lupin :)**

**From: Sirius Black**

**Message: U better stay that way. Need you healthy for our project!**

**To: Sirius Black**

**From: Remmy Lupin :)**

**Message: Just our project?**

Is Remus _flirting _with me? I am so OK with this. Play it cool, Sirius

**To: Remmy Lupin :)**

**From: Sirius Black**

**Message: Other things of course. I'd like to not have to make a hospital trip.**

**To: Sirius Black**

**From: Remmy Lupin :)**

**Message: You're not the only one. How was your mum when you got home?**

...To tell or not to tell...hm. I can't have him worrying about me, the stress won't help him get better.

**To: Remmy Lupin :)**

**From: Sirius Black**

**Message: Got past without seeing her! Gonna havta get Reg to bed, better go.**

Reg's slow, even breathing was starting to make me sleepy, and of course school tomorrow, not like that factored in or anything. But of course, I'd need to call Jamie at some point. I always tell him when Mother has...episodes, even more and more frequent as they're getting.

**From: Remmy Lupin :)**

**To: Sirius Black**

**Message: I'll need to get to bed, cold and all. See ya tomorrow, history. Sleep well!**

I smile at the screen, God, am I whipped. I pull Reg a little closer to me and speed dial James**.**

**Ash's part up soon! Leave a review and feed our lonely inbox's!**

**Author's note:**

**2 million pounds is equal to:**

**3.3 million dollars US**

**2.4 million euros**


	6. 3 James

**And here we have James' continuation of the story. Enjoy Ash's wonderful writing.**

* * *

James

I'm nearly asleep when my phone starts playing some irritable jingling noise at an unbearable volume and I jerk my head up off the pillow. It can't be morning already. And it isn't. The numbers read 10:00, and really I should be asleep. But Sirius is calling, so I answer.

"What do you want?" I demand groggily.

"Jamie," he whispers. Why is he whispering? He usually stays up 'till all hours of the night, blaring loud music and such. Besides, Sirius never whispers. Everything was loud with Sirius: his music, his bike, just him.

"Yes, Sirius?" I roll over, my eyes sliding open and shut slowly. They truly only want to be sliding closed and then remaining that way, but alas.

"Mother's gone on a murderous rage." Because he's whispering, he sounds legitimately afraid, which is doubly humorous because Sirius is both loud and fearless.

I just sigh, knowing Sirius' mum. "What's she done now? Offed a puppy?"

"No, she _pushed Reggie_."

I pause. "She did what?" If I'm not going crazy and I heard Sirius correctly, I wouldn't be surprised if she were dead. His mother's always been a bit of a bitch, but _pushing Regulus_? That's taking things a little far. And the way Sirius protects Reg, I doubt he's pleased.

Sirius' hushed words grow louder now, just slightly, and much angrier. "He has a bruise on his side, James, a nasty one, and I swear to god I'll kill her myself."

I really feel like going back to bed, but I just ask, "Why?"

"My parents were fighting about some money my uncle left me and he asked them to stop yelling and she pushed him. What kind of parent pushes their child because he asks them to _stop yelling_?" Sirius' voice is shaking, he's so upset, his mood completely different from what it was when I saw him earlier. I yawn, try to push it back down, but he hears. "You're tired, I should let you sleep. Night."

"Sirius, no wait—" There's a click and he's hung up. Great.

Push the covers back, I tell myself once I've shut off my alarm. Now get out of bed.

"Fuck you," I respond to myself aloud, before traipsing across the hall to the bathroom.

All I can think about for the entire day are my plans for chemistry. So naturally, that's what Peter and I talk about rather than paying attention during pre-calc.

"Alright so it should be around 1:45 but I'll text you anyway, make sure you have your phone on."

"And then I just…" Peter stops talking abruptly as Sirius saunters over, a smug grin on his face.

"Hello gents. What are we talking about? Girl troubles, James?"

I almost say something about about him having men troubles, but I bite it back. That would be unnecessarily rude, and James Potter is only ever rude when absolutely necessary. Usually. "No, actually we were just talking about maths." The words are hard to get out. The last time I talked about math was years ago, and I have maintained a very respectable passing C in every maths class since then, thank you very much.

Sirius just nods, knowing the claim is as false as Kayla Hammer's tits. "Don't look now but we're doing a partner activity. And lucky for you, we get to choose our partners."

I'm out of my seat and halfway to Lily Evans' desk when Rem sweeps in and says something that makes Lily grin slightly, before turning to me with such an apologetic face that I know who's put him up to it.

"You dick," I snap at Sirius, who sits down at the desk next to mine with a satisfied smirk. I'd punch him but, while it keeps me away from Lily, it also keeps Remus away from Sirius. Fair trade, I suppose. I don't know what we're supposed to be doing, and of course neither does Sirius. But it's okay because Peter does and by staying with us he avoids getting stuck with Snape, who's left alone since Lily's been abducted by Rem.

When the bell rings we go to lunch, and then I'm off the chem. I strongly dislike chemistry. I hate the smell of chemicals, all the equations, and the homework that I never do anyway.

Speaking of homework, Remus emailed me his essay, which I changed the name at the top of and minimally edited some random paragraphs. So I'm good to go, and Slughorn most likely won't even notice a difference.

As soon as the bell rings I'm antsy. I keep glancing at the clock, and Lily must notice because she wordlessly shoves her watch in my face.

"Waiting for something?" There's a pale tint of pink in her cheeks, her eyes green as ever.

"No," I lie smoothly. "Just the end of the day, freedom from this hell, just what every other person here is thinking. Except you, I'm sure."

Lily narrows her eyes, the corners of her mouth jerking a little. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"You just like school is all. I can't fathom why." I glance at her essay, a good three pages thicker even than Remus'. That in itself is impressive. Remus may not love school irrationally, but he takes it seriously.

"At least I try. You're just lucky you have Remus." She raises an eyebrow at the indignant noise I make. "Like I don't see you cross his name out on the homework every class. Don't worry, I'm not going to say anything to Professor Slughorn." Great. If she knew I never did my homework, what had she thought when I'd asked her for it after last class? I cringe inwardly.

It's 1:45 by now, and turn away with a grin to text Pete. As soon as it sends, the Slug himself steps up with a clipboard and announces our 'surprise' seat change. It doesn't surprise me. He starts at the opposite side of the room, and I can only hope Peter shows up before he gets to us. He does.

Slughorn, along with everyone in the class looks up when we hear deafening bangs from the hallway. Slughorn's face draws tight and he ignores it, assigning two more pairs to their table before finally he puts his clipboard on his desk and marches over to the door.

When he peers out the little window in the door, he jerks his head back almost as quickly, eyebrows knitting together in anger. He grumbles rather loudly then rips the door open, almost hits himself with it, and charges out of the room.

Students lean over their lab tables to look out the door after Slughorn, everyone considerably more curious than I am. While no one's paying attention to me, too busy trying to figure out what could possibly be causing the eardrum-shattering explosions, I meander over to the desk.

I need tissues, I say to myself, so that anyone in here who can read minds will be convinced. I half wonder what Sirius would say if he could see me now, not being the least bit stealthy, but then, he'd probably be too concerned over Rem in the first place. Maybe not. If Rem could distract Sirius from pranks, then he'd really be the one.

Slughorn's desk is a paper covered mess, open books stacked on top of each other, essays and tests crammed into an overstuffed drawer. The clipboard rests dangerously on top, little sticky notes with a student's name scrawled hastily on each marking where they will sit.

I simply switch mine with the one next to Lily's, throw an unused tissue into the trash just in case, and return to my seat. Simple enough, really. It took little to no effort from me. I just feel bad for Peter, who is undoubtedly going to get two week's detention, at least. Lily hasn't even noticed my absence, more bored than excited by the interruption.

The explosions stop abruptly, and I cringe when I hear, "Peter Pettigrew! What on earth are you doing?"

Most of the class laughs when we hear, "But I'm doing chemistry, professor!" Even Lily cracks a smile. Slughorn returns a few minutes later after dragging Pete to the office, and I feel only the slightest twinge of guilt. I'm a horrible person.

"James Potter and Lily Evans," he says tiredly, tapping a table a few rows to the left of ours. Slug squints at the seating chart for a moment, but of course he can't question himself, so he moves on to the next table.

As Lily and I take our new seats, she grins. "Long time no see, James. Odd that Professor Slughorn keeps putting us next to each other. Maybe he thinks I'll make you smarter."

"Or maybe it's fate," I suggest.

Lily just smiles. "Yeah. Maybe."

**Reviews are love, stay tuned!**


End file.
